


Chosen

by MiriamKenneath



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Father/Son Incest, Inappropriate Use of the Force, M/M, Mpreg, Pregnant Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-24 15:06:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18166745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiriamKenneath/pseuds/MiriamKenneath
Summary: Luke Skywalker, his beloved son, is pregnant, and he carries their future inside of him.





	Chosen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RedRumRaver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedRumRaver/gifts).



Luke Skywalker, his beloved son, is pregnant, and he carries their future inside of him.

He is sound asleep when Vader arrives. Although Vader cannot visit this hidden stronghold as often as he would prefer and it has been more than a month since he was last free from his duties to the Empire to do so – Vader decides not to wake him. Instead, he takes a seat beside Luke’s bed and waits.

Eventually, as if sensing Vader’s presence, Luke wakes. ‘Father! I can’t believe it! I was dreaming of you, and you’re here! It’s like a miracle!’ he cries, his face alight with happiness when he realises Vader is there. He grunts with effort, struggling to rise from the bed. He wants to throw himself into his father’s arms.

Vader raises one hand and places it on Luke’s chest to forestall any overeager movement. ‘No, my son,’ he chides gently. ‘You must not overexert yourself.’

‘Yes, Father.’ Luke obeys without question. He sinks back into his bed.

Vader allows his hand to drift lower. He strokes Luke’s belly, swollen and heavy, sensing the little life growing there, probing it with his mind. Soon, the time will come for Luke to give birth. They must be ready.

‘The dream was a true one. You are strong in the Force, my son,’ he says.

‘Oh? How do you know? Do you dream of me too?’ asks Luke. His body is responding to Vader’s caress. He makes a low sound in the back of his throat, like a purr; he wants more.

‘Yes,’ says Vader simply as his hand slides lower still.

He will give Luke what he craves.

 

His son is beautiful indeed. Radiant. Vader admires his full, pink lips and the pale fans of his eyelashes. Perfection.

He is even more beautiful now than he was four years ago when Vader first discovered him languishing on that loathsome dustball planet Tatooine, orphaned and angry and entirely ignorant of the ways of the Force.

It had been pure chance that they’d found each other, or perhaps it was their destiny. Vader hadn’t been visiting Tatooine by choice – his pursuit of a foolish Alderaanian princess and her stupid droids with their stolen intel required it. Imagine his surprise, then, when he’d discovered his old teacher there! And his fury to learn that Kenobi had been hiding a son – _his son_ – from him!

Kenobi had given him no excuse for his excretable behaviour, and Vader had not been in a particularly forgiving mood. He’d always hated Tatooine’s sand, and it’d made him even more irritable than usual.

But in any case, he’d… _dealt_ with the traitorous Kenobi and those stupid droids, and the Imperial Navy had similarly _dealt_ with that foolish Alderaanian princess and her foolish Rebel Alliance. Then he’d spirited his son away from that ignominious life, to commence his training as Vader’s apprentice and rightful heir, and he’s succeeded in keeping Luke hidden from the avaricious gaze of the Emperor ever since.

He’d not told Luke the truth of his parentage. Vader had never liked admitting to failure. Instead, he’d simply told Luke that he’d been ‘chosen’. By whom? Vader didn’t say. It wasn’t a lie, and it didn’t really matter anyway. It certainly doesn’t matter now.

Vader knows the Emperor’s days are numbered.

 

Luke took to the training like a desert succulent after a rainstorm. He was strong in the Force, and a natural, as Anakin Skywalker had once been.

His emotions were strong as well, and Vader taught him to tap into those emotions. Fear, anger, hate, lust – all, Vader explained, could be exploited to power one’s connection with the Dark Side.

‘And what about love, my Lord? Is love also of the Dark Side?’ asked Luke one day during a break in his training.

They were sitting in Vader’s hyperbaric chamber, and Vader had already removed his mask and helmet. Luke experienced no disgust at the sight of Vader’s scars; whenever he gazed upon Vader’s face, his expression was earnest, attentive…worshipful.

‘Love is love. In and of itself neither light nor dark. All depends upon how it is used,’ said Vader.

‘And’ – Luke stepped close to Vader, leaned in – ‘if I said I love _you_ , would my use of emotion be appropriate in this instance?’ Luke pressed a sweet kiss to the corner of his mouth and reached down to remove the plastisteel codpiece at Vader’s groin. ‘And if I said I want you, would you allow it?’

‘I…I should not.’ Vader’s old injuries were severe. They were the reason why Vader could not feel it when Luke took Vader’s soft member into his hand and tugged the catheter free, why he could not feel himself hardening, an involuntary reflex to stimulus. But he could feel the hot waves of Luke’s desire. They pounded on his Force-senses.

‘And why should you not, my Lord?’ asked Luke gently. Implacably. His hand on Vader continued its stroking motions.

‘Because…because, Luke, I am your father…!’ Vader groaned, for the revelation had only made Luke’s desire burn hotter. Luke was overriding his control. ‘You are my son…you must stop this…!’

But Luke refused to stop, and when Luke straddled his hips, sank down onto his erection and rode him to completion, the annihilating ecstasy of Luke’s orgasm was theirs to share.

‘I choose this. I choose _you_ , Father,’ he said.

 

Luke is perfect, yes, and so is his cock. Unblemished. Responsive. Exquisitely sensitive.

When Vader strokes him with a leather-gloved hand, it feels like he is stroking himself because Luke shares the sensations with him. Their minds are in communion, and they share everything: the slow build, the rising tension, the peak –

Luke twists about on the bed, distressed. ‘Inside me, Father. I want you inside me…!’ he cries.

The words are command couched as plea, but Vader does not chastise him for his audacity. Vader does not care. He wants this too.

He spreads Luke’s legs, holding his inner thighs open, and positions himself. Luke moans hungrily.

When Vader presses his hard cock into his son, he cannot feel the tightness of his son’s body. When he begins to thrust, he cannot feel the friction. But oh, _oh_ – ! He _can_ feel the invasion, the penetration, the pounding rhythm against his prostate, muscles clenching in pleasure, the tightness at the base of his cock, moments from spilling –

‘Yeeess…’ Luke sighs as he comes. ‘Fill me up!’

Vader grabs Luke by the hips and plunges in right to the hilt. He cannot feel the volleys of semen that shoot from his cock and into his son, but he _can_ feel the child in Luke’s womb twitching its little limbs in instinctive response to its mother’s ardour.

Does the child sense that its father is near?

Actually, Vader does not know if the child is his, if it was conceived by his seed or by some miracle of the Force. Whether his child, his grandchild – or both – makes no difference.

The Force is strong in his family, and together, the three of them, they will rule the galaxy.


End file.
